Thursday, September 8, 2016

To A Young Poet

I feel your words
  The angst of youth crossing every T
  The deepest questions dotting the I’s
I once raged on the page as you do
         Now I envy you

It’s not that the words have abounded me
   They can flow like water at times
      Creating new rivers of discourse
      Through the landscape of life

But I find it harder to get the words to bleed
 To cut through the skin
 To pump through my aorta

But your words fill the poem with emotion
  Needle to vain
  Band-aid needed after reading
  Two cups of orange juice just to have enough
      Energy to get off the page

Maybe I have run out of blood
    Or have become too afraid
    Filled with fear and age
          To let my heart be seen by the world

Because I’ve learned that I might speak truth

But the reader always has their own connotation

And too many times they don’t match